


Looking at You ('cause it's getting me high)

by fowo



Series: tales from the closet [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Suits, set before they had their falling out and everything is just dandy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowo/pseuds/fowo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out, Gabriel can't tie a tie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking at You ('cause it's getting me high)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carvedwhalebones (fuckyeahlucifersupernatural)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/gifts).



> Written for Luci, for an abundance of reason. ILU, bab, stay awesome. ♥

 

Gabriel scarcely ever wears anything besides his uniform or some sort of training gear; a shirt, a black hoodie and loose fitting sweatpants that look _great_ on his ass when he works out, but are plain and simple. If he feels civil enough, maybe he'll put on a pair of jeans. _Maybe_.

When the UN decides to give him a medal for bravery after the shit that went down in Amsterdam, Gabriel has nothing, at all, to wear.

"You don't have a suit?" Jack says, looking up over the corner of his tablet where he's reading the news on the couch in Overwatch's shared TV room. In the background, Angela and Lena are fighting little Fareeha over which video game to play, getting hushed occasionally by Ana to mind their volume.

Gabriel makes a face. He has his fists buried in the front pockets of his hoodie, wearing gray sweatpants and sneakers. He looks like he's just about to head out for a run, not like someone who's ready to go and shake hands with people and smile for the camera. "Should I?"

Ana places down her teacup on the saucer. "Not even an old one from your prom?"

Gabe grimaces again. "Don't have one. Never went."

Ana and Jack share a look. "Well, you can't go and accept a medal in those, that's for sure," Ana says then, leaning back on the couch and gesturing to Gabriel's sneakers.

Gabe's face is a sour scowl now. He doesn't care much for the medal, and certainly not for the hassle that comes with the publicity. But no matter how much he had argued, the PR guy had insisted he go and polish up and accept the damn medal like the war hero he is.

Jack chuckles a little and raises his tablet back up. "Looks like someone needs help shopping for clothes," he says, nudging Ana in the side.

"Are you kidding me?" Ana says. "Do I look like I have any idea about male fashion?" She gestures over to Fareeha who is busy wrestling down Lena while Angela worries. "I'm busy buying tiny dresses with unicorn patterns. ‘sides, I'm not your damn mom. " She nudges Jack back, less playful and more devious.  " _You_ go."

For the first time, Gabriel's expression changes. He is smiling, but it's grim and malicious. "Yeah, _dad_ ," he says, his smirk all teeth when Jack sputters a little and his ears ignite with a nervous blush. "Help me buy a damn suit."

Jack looks up, but Ana and Gabe are grinning, and he knows he's already lost.

* * *

It was a funny idea at first, but Gabriel's mood is back in the gutter as soon as they step into the mall. Gabriel hates the people, Gabriel hates the noise, he hates going out and having to shop for a goddamn suit so he can get a goddamn medal that he only got for doing his goddamn _job_ and it's all goddamn _bullshit_. Jack chuckles and pats him on the shoulder and tells him it will be fun and all suits look the same anyway, they'll buy something and get something unhealthy and deep-fried to eat afterward as a reward, and they'll be back at the base before Gabe knows it.

It sounded good enough. They both realize quickly it's not gonna be so easy.

"You can't buy a suit for thirty bucks," Jack scolds softly when Gabe pulls out the first black suit he comes across.

"Navy makes me look dead," Gabe says at the fourth.

"Come on, you can't accept a medal of honor in red checkers!" Jack says, laughing, when Gabriel steps out of the dressing room in the seventh just to shake things up.

"I'm not wearing fucking Lagerfeld, give me a break," Gabe protests at the tenth.

After the fifteenth, they give up and get something unhealthy and deep-fried to eat. The day is half over and they both know this will take the rest of the damn day, too; and they're not talking to each other as they both gloomily sip their coke, watching girls run by with heaps of bags full of clothes and shoes and both men wonder how they do it and why they can't.

"Fuck it," Gabe proclaims, slamming his empty coke cup on the table. "I've had enough."

"Gabe, you can't—" Jack starts as he watches his friend get up and dunk his paper napkins into the nearest trashcan. "You need a suit—"

"Yeah yeah," Gabe grunts dismissively, waving his hand to make Jack follow. Jack scrambles to get to his feet, following with big eyes as Gabriel swiftly strides over to the one store he had been pointedly avoiding all day: The kind of store where nobody but yourself ever is in, where you get your own personal slave with perfect nails and perfect hair and the perfect smile who brings you espresso and a glass of water with a slice of lemon in it while they sit you down to get presented every damn thing of clothing the damn store has to offer.

Jack is honestly surprised. "You're not exactly marrying," he says. "This will be expensive."

"Can't eat my money when I'm dead," Gabriel growls, pushing the door to the store open. "I'm sick of looking and trying on stuff. I just want to get it over with."

Behind the shiny glass doors with golden lettering, cool, perfectly conditioned air embraces them; a wonderful change after the hot weather outside. The store is flooded in a golden kind of light, the champagne-colored carpet thick and fluffy enough to muffle every sound of the heels of the clerks, with high ceilings and all sorts of fancy lamps that make obvious to everyone that this isn't just another H&M. Everything is very spacious, and the plants are actually real. Gabe, looking like, well, _Gabe_ , seems so out of place Jack halfway expects the store might spit him out in disgust as if it were a live thing.

It doesn't, but the disapproving look of the clerk headed for them comes pretty close.

She wears a pencil skirt that is probably colored _eggshell_ or some shit, her nails in what Gabriel thinks might have a fancy name like _An Apple A Day_ , but before she can open her mouth to politely, yet firmly usher him outside because he clearly got the wrong door, he whips out his wallet and hands her a fifty.

"I need a gala suit, a shirt, and shoes, and I don't have a lot of patience. Get my friend and me a coffee and make it quick."

She takes the bank note, her red lips making a perfect _O_ as the information sinks in, and then her attitude changes and she becomes the kind of pliant, submissive woman Gabriel loves to push around. Jack can't help but roll his eyes: For someone liking to dress low-key, Gabe sure knows how to be melodramatic.

She ushers them cheerily to the back of the store where there are a few fancy, big looking changing rooms and a couple of chairs that look expensive enough to have passed the stigmatic state of style-means-uncomfortable and go full circle to 30-year-old-couch-in-the-basement-comfortable. Another store monkey scuttles about, hurrying to confirm that _these fine gentlemen_ would certainly like a coffee to shorten their wait.

Gabriel and Jack fall down on the chairs, and Gabriel puts his dirty training shoes up on the perfect looking glass table between them and smirks. "Thank fucking god," he says, and Jack thinks he's a terrible person, and shakes his head, and chuckles because he can't help but love him anyway.

They get their coffee and the dolled up lady catering to Gabe's every whim asks him a few questions about what he likes; what the suit is for ("A wedding?" she asks, carefully side-eyeing Jack, who flushes the color of her nail polish, and Gabriel smirks, but denies) and what color tie he would like, and then she rushes off. She doesn't even ask his size, and Jack thinks she can probably just guess from _looking_ because she’s actually trained in her job.

She comes back a few minutes later, carrying an outfit in both hands; perfectly pressed dress pants, a close-fitting jacket with shawl lapel, a black and a white shirt to choose from, terribly shiny patent leather shoes, a tie. Gabriel shoots Jack a look, his expression triumphant, and Jack hides a smile behind his hand as Gabriel gets up to take the clothes, telling the clerk to beat it and then steps inside the changing room.

Jack exhales some pent-up anxiety when he’s finally alone. Gabriel will definitely feel the dent in his bank account, but he was probably right, this is _so_ much easier and more comfortable than trying out every suit by themselves. And despite Ana's teasing, Jack doesn't really know _that_ much about fashion either; he grew up on a farm, after all.

He closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the obnoxiously relaxing piano music that plays softly in the background. The clerks leave them be, thankfully; Jack is terrible at small talk and going shopping with Gabriel is exhausting. He is glad to just sit and rest for a moment, carefully sipping his espresso as he listens to the muffled sounds of Gabriel dressing.

Then Jack hears the door unlock, and Gabe pushes it open just enough that his voice carries over.

"Jack," he mutters from inside the changing room. "You gotta help me, I can't fucking tie a tie."

Jack snorts and brushes his hand over his mouth and chin to wipe away the smirk before he actually gets up and walks over to the door, peeking his head in. "I should tell this to—" he begins cheekily, and then falls silent.

Gabe looks— _fuck_. Gabe looks, and Jack laments his poor choice of words even in the solitude of his own mind, _so good_. Gabriel of course always looks good, which is why it's just a pathetic excuse for a word, but, just... the suit the store clerk picked for him is something else.

Gabe is thick and muscular to begin with, and the thin cotton of the dress pants flowing from his perfectly curved hips to his thighs just emphasize it ever so tastefully. The fabric is taut over his ass, not leaving to the imagination that Gabe can probably crack walnuts with it. Then it gives way a little before it sits snugly again on his thighs, a little looser around the knees, and then there's just the _idea_ of the curve of his calves before the seam makes way for the sharp edge of his ankles and heel.

Gabriel isn't even wearing shoes yet, standing there in socks. The black leather belt with the perfectly polished silver buckle hangs open around his wide hips, suggesting just enough dishevelment to make Jack feel an embarrassing wave of pleasure rush through his body; his cock stiffening quickly and pressing against his own jeans.

And then the shirt—the black one, _damn_ the store clerk for even considering that option—is just tight enough to make Jack's mouth water. Gabe hasn't bothered buttoning it up all the way, and the collar rests loosely and invitingly around his dark collarbone. The silken, shimmering tie is probably called some fancy color that Jack can't begin to guess but it's a deep, dark red and it looks _gorgeous_ on Gabriel's complexion and black suit.

Gabriel even took off the stupid beanie. His hair is tousled, now, thick curls standing in all directions and it reminds Jack of the lazy hours of their last day off together, when he woke Gabe up with kisses to his neck as sunlight pooled into the room, both of them sleep-warm and a little sloppy, and Jack pressed himself between Gabe's asschecks until—

"Fuck me," Jack mutters, and he's not even sure if it's an expletive or actually an invitation.

Gabe looks up from where he attempted—poorly—to tie a Windsor and catches on in a heartbeat. "Like it?" he asks, gesturing to his entire getup with a nonchalant wave of his hand that has Jack's face _burning_ with shame.

He swallows. He's salivating and feels like any second now he'll start panting like a dog. He wants to rip Gabriel out of the clothes, stat. Although, no… better yet, they should stay.

"Yeah," he admits softly with a nod. "It looks good."

The way Gabe's teeth show when he grins is a sure sign that he thinks that _this_ is an understatement, but all he does is bring up a hand and curl in his index finger in an inviting gesture. Jack swallows again and quickly pops his head back into the store—nobody in sight. His heart pounds in his throat when he slips into the changing room, locking the door behind him.

He's not sure if Gabriel pulled him in or if he just jumped the man, but the next moment Jack is pressing Gabriel against the wall, fingers grabbing the short curls on top of his head and giving a rough tug in his direction, and Gabe’s kisses are _bites_ and his chuckle morphs into a greedy moan. They're swallowing each other's sounds down and when Gabe pulls back, Jack is panting.

Gabriel measures Jack with a knowing look. "We oughta—" he starts to say, but Jack drops to his knees where he's standing, his thighs pushing Gabe's ankles further apart. "Whoa there," Gabriel mutters, and he runs a warm palm over Jack's cheek before getting a good grip a his hair and tugging at the roots. "You like the suit _that_ much?"

"Be quiet or we're gonna be in trouble," Jack hisses. The slim zipper of the fine pants makes a wonderful noise when Jack greedily pulls it down, and it's almost a relief to see Gabriel wear his usual, black boxers underneath, and not something that is equally as fancy and arousing as the suit. Jack sighs and greedily nuzzles his face against Gabe's groin, feeling the throb of blood behind the thin layer of cotton that is between him and Gabe's stiffening cock.

"Oh, _you_ think I’ll get us in trouble?" Gabriel teases above him, but Jack doesn't even bother to look up. He sighs as he pushes the elastic waistband down a little, and now, between the tails of the black shirt and the opened pants, there's a wonderful rhombus-shaped patch of Gabriel's dark skin, covered in lush chestnut hair. Jack places a greedy kiss into the middle of the exposed space, nosing against it and inhaling Gabe's scent; cinnamon and musk and—

Gabriel has one hand in his hair, leaning comfortably against the wall, and hums a warm chuckle that softly transitions into a moan, muffled by him biting down to his lower lip when Jack pulls his pants and boxers down to his thighs to get his cock out. Curling his fingers tightly around the base, Jack quickly gives a few rough strokes, making Gabe fully hard. Jack doesn't lean in just yet to take him in his mouth, it's too fascinating to watch Gabe grow to his full size; skin stretching and color changing with the rush of blood. He has a beautiful cock that Jack adores; its heavy weight, the curve of it, the ridge and the veins on it, all of it is perfect.

Jack's mouth continues to flood and his own erection throbs against his suddenly too-tight jeans, aching for... not the immediate return of the favor, but much more to finally take Gabriel into his mouth. It's a thought that Jack doesn't voice, embarrassed to admit that he gains so much pleasure from the idea of sucking Gabriel off.

"You gonna make me _ask_ for it, Morrison?" Gabe snarls from above, voice now dark with arousal.

"Don't give me ideas," Jack shoots back with a smirk. "But I think this time, you don’t have to."

Gabriel chuckles, but the noise dies as Jack leans in and takes him into his mouth. He would like to tease him; nurse on the head, mouth brushing gently over the sides, giving his muscles time to relax and loosen around his cock. But Gabriel likes being in charge, and with a rough grip on Jack's hair, he pushes his hips forward until he can feel himself brushing against the back of Jack's throat.

Jack whines, the sound vibrating along Gabe's twitching cock, and they both groan softly in unison.

When Gabriel starts rocking his hips, his cock drags heavily over Jack's tongue, and when he pushes forward, Jack's throat tightens up and he has to swallow; once, twice, trying to fight the impulse to gag, and Gabriel growls overhead when he sees Jack's face flush red with exasperation. A tingle in Jack’s nose warns him that there's gonna be tears in his eyes when he lets Gabriel press any deeper. But he has a weird obsession to impress him, and Gabriel is already pleased, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Jack's scalp.

Jack closes his eyes and tries to remember how to _breathe_ , nostrils flaring with his shuddering breath as he bobs his head, slicking Gabriel with his saliva. His lips prickle from the friction and he hums desperate little noises, already feeling Gabe leak into his mouth. It's a wonderful, salty taste, and Jack reverently rubs his hands over Gabriel's ass and thick thighs, feeling the... what kind of fabric is that, anyway? It's so soft and smooth that he can make out Gabriel's _hair_ underneath. Jack can't help the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth, making his cheeks hurt. There's a hot tingle sitting at the end of his spine, a tight feeling of arousal that has him think he might finish without even getting touched.

Gabriel mutters soft encouragement under his breath, mixing Spanish in between that Jack doesn't understand, but it makes his own cock _impossibly_ hard, and he whines as he slips a hand down between his legs to rub over his jeans, practically humping his palm. He doesn't manage to pull himself out of his pants, although he _wants_ to; he desperately wants to jerk off to Gabe fucking his mouth, but there's his belt and the button and the zipper and his briefs and it's _too much_ , he can't manage, he's too horny to go through all the hassle so he just ruts against his hand.

"You cockhungry slut, boy scout," Gabe rumbles above him, keeping a encouraging grip on the back of Jack's head, rocking into him with a steady, comfortable pace. Jack hums a desperate sound of agreement, blinking up to Gabriel with eyes wet enough to shine, making Gabriel groan. Jack looks amazing, his face flushed so dark that the few faint freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose show, and his thin lips are red and swollen and wet with smeared spit and precum.

Jack practically keens when he looks up at Gabriel, seeing how the shirt is taut over his broad chest, looking like he's going to pop the buttons if he inhales any deeper, and the untied tie hanging from his neck. The muscles of Gabriel's thighs are hard, he can feel them flex and twitch under the grip of his one hand, and when Jack pushes it up to slide under the hem of his shirt, he can feel Gabriel's stomach tremble.

Gabriel curls his fingers into Jack's hair for a tighter grip. "I should shoot my load all over your pretty face," he growls, and the words are torn apart by his shallow panting. "So that everyone can see what you did." His voice is deep and _raw_ with arousal, making Jack whine shamelessly at the mere idea of that _wonderful_ shame. His breath hitches as he desperately rubs his hand over himself, his mouth and tongue becoming sloppy, and Gabriel brings down his other hand, grabbing both sides of Jack's face to keep him still, and he takes over.

The mere strength of Gabriel's grip, that reminder of the brute force Gabriel is capable of, drives Jack almost insane, and his guts coil and he comes in his jeans like a little boy even before he feels Gabriel's cock pulse hot in his mouth, and Jack keens and whines and swallows when Gabriel fucks his mouth until he reaches completion.

Jack feels so goddamn weak that he slumps back, sitting on his ass as he tries to catch his breath, breaking the thin threads of fluid from his mouth to Gabriel's cock with the back of his hand. He looks up at Gabriel, who's panting and tucking himself back into his pants, and again, the sound of the zipper has Jack flush and shudder.

"Goddammit, Jack," Gabriel mutters, righting his suit and checking in the mirror for any signs of indecency.

"Well," Jack says a little sheepishly, coming up to his feet again and adjusting his own clothes, thankful his jeans are dark enough not to show any wet spots in front. "At least it's safe to say you're not gonna wear the suit only one time?"

Gabriel snorts and grins, wiping a wet spot away from Jack's chin with a gentleness that Jack admires and craves.

"Tie me that goddamn tie, Jack," Gabriel mutters, and Jack turns to straighten Gabriel's collar and tie a crooked Windsor with shaking hands.

When Gabe a little later announces to the store clerk that he'll take the suit, he makes a point not to open the shabby knot, wearing it when he accepts his medal of bravery on a stage with hundreds of people watching, and Jack is in the audience, beet red and proud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Writing this was heaps of fun, and I hope I can do more OW stuff in the future. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! If you liked it, why not [buy me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A62598W)?  
> The title comes, of course, from AC/DC's "Back in black" because who am I kidding. I ain't even sorry.
> 
> Special thanks to dadlockdarling for giving it a readthrough!
> 
> hmu on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/fowo__) & [tumblr](http://fowo.tumblr.com)


End file.
